Cruel Revenge
by silversparklemoonlight
Summary: A year later, Pitch emerged from the shadows.Only two thoughts on his mind.Revenge on the Guardians and Jack.He never thought, getting revenge would be so pleasurable.But something deep beneath him stirs, when he has Jack as his captive.Pitch is concerned with this peculiar sense that keeps dawning within him. Will he be able to figure out what this feeling is before all is lost?
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians:p**

* * *

Darkness.

Never could darkness form itself into such a vile being. A being that only felt hatred for all others, strived to consume other souls within their darkness, seek to uncase the world under a new rein of their darkness, of their fear. A being only created from all the evil elements of the world, all coiled together within one soul. A soul of pure evil and hatred. A soul that was uncontrollable, unrestrained to any punishments, free to spread it's frightening elements to young infants.  
The shrill screams from children within their sleep, the tossing and turning within their beds desperate to be released from this nightmare realm they had no control over, the terror that coated their eyes when finally awakened as their body shivered. Not from coldness. But from fear.  
It was an accomplishment, it felt as a satisfaction to see children petrified, trembling in their parents comforting embrace wrapped around them, the nights filled with awaken children, unwilling to re-enter the horrifying realm of their greatest fears. Nothing could stop these beast. They craved for more fear. They would always want more. There would never be an end to their desire of spreading fear to every being that existed on this planet. They would never stop spreading their darkened dreams to children. They would never stop uncasing the world within their fear.

The world was in an age of despair, misery, hopelessness. It was an age of darkness for all the mortals. It was a time where no one would have courage nor bravery to stand up to these creatures. All the mortal's spirits were shattered. They were nothing but a mere shell of a person, with an empty soul rested within. Only a soul that was corrupted to form a frightened human.  
It was known to be the Dark Age. An age that brought no light to the world. A time with no joy, dreams, hope, or memories of their blissful past. A time that consumed humans in a cage of fear, with a lock with an unbreakable code, for no release.  
These creatures treasured this time. They savored every spine-tingling scream that rung in their ears. They adored every child hidden within their own fear, unable to escape their frightening state of mind, forever trapped within this realm of bloodcurdling monsters and spirits. They never expected this period of despair to end for them.

.

Something had to be done. These menacing creatures of darkness had to be defeated. The world had to be guided back towards the light. They had to destroy these monsters for once and for the rest of eternity.  
Except, one dilemma with this ill-defined plan was these creatures couldn't be destroyed. There no such thing as death for them. They would be around for all eternity, they would never be able to be killed.

Time passed of sketches and outlines, of plans to end this darkened war once and for all. Each idea led to somehow destroying these beast, which was next to impossible to do.  
Time trickled by even more, of failed attempts of plans, of mortals being ruled over by fear. Each scenario ended with these creatures being slayed. They had to figure an idea, of not killing them, but maybe imprisoning them.

A solution came. A solution that could end this battle with darkness.  
This solution turned into a battle strategy. This tactic turned into a battle. This clash wasn't fought between mortals and Fearlings though. It was fought between Spirits and Fearlings.  
Light overruled the darkness. The Spirits defeated the Fearlings.  
The Fearlings were imprisoned within their own barrier of darkness. They were swallowed within this imprisonment for all of eternity. The world was led towards the light once again. The humans were guided back towards the wonder and joy this world consisted of. They were being led back to the light by Spirits. They were unknown of these invisible forces around them, that guided them through this tough terrain back to their pure self. Spirits were what ended the Dark Age for the humans, and led them to a new one. A new age that consisted of light, enjoyment, laughter, pleasure, and enchantment. The humans were being guided towards the Golden Age. They were grateful for the end of their suffering. They were thankful to experience what it felt like to smile once again. They were indebted to the Spirits that rescued them from this shaded age.

.

The war was not yet over. It would never be over.  
The Fearlings were simply captured. Not destroyed. The Spirits had to keep them imprisoned for the rest of eternity, or else both them and the humans would fall into another Dark Age.  
The Fearling's screeches for release resonated through the air. The attempts at clawing against their confinements bars didn't lessen. They would never give up. They would never quit on their efforts of escape.

For all eternity, the Spirits were planning to keep these creatures confined. Restrained. Restricted.

But there would be one slip up, one mistake that would lead these Fearlings escaping from their prison. And they wouldn't know about it until it was to late to save the mortals once again. They had to have a watch, a look out, a Guard, to keep an eye on these prisoners. Someone that could drown out the pleads and whispers from the prisoners. Someone that loathed these creatures so much he would never grant the Fearlings a taste of freedom.

No one volunteered for the relentless days. No. Years, of receiving taunts, insults, and pleads. No spirit thought they could handle such a torment-filled job. They couldn't handle the years spent listening to those thousands of insults brought upon one being. They couldn't imagine such a burden being bestowed upon them.

All the spirits refused. All except one.

Kozmotis Pitchiner accepted the task. No matter how much he hated to leave his daughter behind, he made a commitment to protect the mortals of Earth. He had to put the task of being a Guardian before his love for his daughter. He agreed upon the challenge.  
He left his beloved daughter behind, alone under the care of his most trusted ally. His daughter gave him a smile of reassurance, proud her father would be taking on such a difficult task, to protect the well-being of others. Except, the smile was only a mask to cover her pain. Inside her heart throbbed for the missing piece that now left her. Her fragile frame felt a chill course through her as she felt her soul shrink as each day passed and her endeared father didn't return back for her. The girl always forgave and saw the innocence in others, but she loved her father so much she felt sadness rise within her for being left alone. Kozmotis didn't feel much different.  
He felt guilt string it's way around his heart. He cared and loved his daughter more than anything in the universe. She was his light. She brought the joy and wonder to his world. He would never let any harm be caused upon her. Her soul was the purest of any other Spirit's. And he made an oath to himself, he would never abandon her.

Now, he left her. Something could happen to his precious child. And it would be all his fault. He wasn't around to protect her. He would never be able to forgive himself if something was caused upon her and he wasn't around to prevent it.

Kozmotis continued his duty he was devoted to do, until he would be released, and it was sure the Fearlings would never be able cause a single nightmare upon the children again. Each day of taunts of his daughter broken for abandoning her, insults of being selfish, inconsiderate, only thinking about himself and not of his family, ricocheted through his mind, the source of the voice from the Fearlings luring their prey into the trap.

Sobs were wrenched from Kozmotis. Piercing screams emerged from his throat. His hands clamped into fist from frustration, and regret, turning his knuckles into a deathly white colour. He clutched onto a golden locket, for if it slipped away he felt it would take his soul away along with it.

"Daddy!"

Seraphina! It was his daughter! He knew that voice anywhere! The only difference was the terror and alarm held within the scream. All his life he never heard his daughter call for him when she was in danger. She was always held in safe hands, with harm a distance away from her. She was in Kozmotis's hands where he would never allow harms way to become between him and his daughter. His Seraphina.

Now, she was in danger. She was no longer in her father's reach for him to protect her. He failed her. She was hurting because he wasn't around to intercept the threat from reaching her. His daughter, his Seraphina was in danger.

"Daddy! Help!"

Kozmotis eyes scanned around the expanse, as he struggled to keep his worry at bay for his daughter. She was in danger. Pain was being caused upon her as he was just standing here.

"Daddy!"

Kozmotis spun around to find the source of where his daughter was being held. His mind was clouded with fear and worry at the moment, he couldn't think logically and presume it could be a trick.

He raced towards the cage doors with key in hand, wasting no time to rescue his distressed Seraphina. He fumbled along with the chain of keys, searching for the one that would unlock the confinement that held thousands of Fearlings, all with their golden eyes glazing down to the worried father about to make a huge mistake.

He wasted no time and swung the cage door open, only to be bombarded with a numerous number of Fearlings crashing into him. Fear. Fear, for himself, with what will become of him. Pain. Pain, for what it felt like to betray a whole world of Spirits and humans, and be punished with the agonizing sting as the Fearlings consumed him within their possession. Worry. Worry, for he was never truly able to save his Seraphina.

The Fearlings didn't waste a second as they heard the creak of the cage door being unlocked. They might never get a chance, like this one, to escape again, and all at once flowed out of the dense cell, colliding into the poor spirit in their path. They swooped around him, making his struggles useless as it was outnumbered ten-thousand to one. They restricted tighter together, swallowing the man in complete darkness.  
His useless screams were silenced, when all at once, the particles of black sand the Fearlings were created of, rushed into his mouth and scraped down his throat. Their skeleton formed ghost bodies, disintegrated into a mass of a black sanded cloud, as it was all engulfed into the unfortunate man.  
Kozmotis made choking sounds, as he resisted to devour the scratchy particles slithering down his throat. He presumed his eyes were closed, for all his vision allowed him to see was darkness. Darkness was something that frightened him now. But it was something he was being created out of.

The last of the Fearlings surged into Kozmotis transforming into an immense evil spirit. No longer, a trace of light or pureness remained within him. His eyes absorbed the dull grey of the previous colour once inhabited there, and turned into a sinister golden colour, as all was revealed within them was genuine evil. The armor weighted on his body, vanished, immediately replaced by a blackened robe the was lengthy, all the way down to his feet. The robe seemed to look... alive. As if it was made of shadows, obscuring his body in darkness. His teeth formed into what looked like sharp pointed razors. It made him a lot more intimidating along with the evil smirk plastered along his lips. The only appearance that remained the same was his jet black, spikey hair. It was the only thing that remained on him, from when he was once Kozmotis Pitchiner.  
No longer, was he known as that weak hearted being. He was trapped, like what he done to the Fearlings. His soul was buried deep within himself, confined in a multitude of barriers preventing him from escaping anytime soon. The Fearlings were in control of his body now. They were more strengthened within a human host. Their power multiplied by the dozens, as did their strength. No longer, was their host known as Kozmotis Pitchiner, but now known as Pitch Black.

Pitch felt something brisk within his grasp, something smooth, and oval shaped. He rose it to his line of sight, affirmed with what seemed to be a golden translucent locket. Intricate designs laced the coating of it, but what interested him was what rested inside.

His stubby fingernails stumbled on opening the garment of jewelry, but when he accomplished his challenge, his eyes widened at what was revealed to him.  
A man with shining silver armor laid across his body, was kneeled with a child. A girl, rested on top of his knee. Both were smiling. Genuinely smiling towards each other. Both of their eyes filled with happiness and joy. The girl seemed to have the most innocence anyone ever possessed as her serene, dull silver eyes sparkled with wondrous emotions. Her hair was in a braid with ravishing flowers to outline it. Her smile was delicate, and enticingly beautiful. It was graced along her rosy red lips, that well-formed along her snow white skin. She was ravishing. So full of innocence and wonder.

Pitch tore his gaze away from the disgusting picture, no longer able to take the joyous emotions it portrayed. He held the locket within his hands for a moment longer, before he released it from his grasp letting it plunge in the endless oblivion of darkness below. Something within him seemed outraged once he released his hold on it, but was gone a second later as he regained his emotions. He then glided away, no particular destination in mind, just his thoughts of vengeance and sought to return the Dark Age back to the mortals.

Little did he know, inside of his evil being, deep beneath the thousands of fearlings, confined within the darkness, was a pure soul.  
Kozmotis heart was ripped from him as he focused on Pitch carelessly tossing away his most prized possession he had left. His locket. His locket, that his Seraphina gifted to him, as her last present of her love towards him.  
He fought with all he had provided with him in this mysterious confinement, but as much as he thrashed out towards the invisible force containing him, nothing did any use for him to escape. He was shattered. His soul was lost once the locket disappeared from his view. He was defeated.  
He was only granted with the sight within his mind, of what his body, now controlled by the Fearlings, was doing and causing harm to others. He could only sit and watch and do nothing about it, as Kozmotis was longer in control of his body but Pitch Black.

* * *

Days turned into weeks, as gradually the Dark Ages were fully returning back to the miserable planet. Humans were once again becoming frightened of their shadows, children were petrified to sleep, parents were distressed for their child's safety. The Golden Age was slowly slipping away from them, as joy, wonder, hope were slipping away from the mortal's souls. Pitch reassured to replace the lively feelings with fear and hopelessness. Fear is what strengthened him. Enables him to create more nightmare sand to bring upon forsaken children within their sleep, dragging them into a fear filled slumber of Nightmares.  
Hopelessness is for that there will be no light to return back the Earth. No hope that the Dark Ages would ever end and the Golden Age will return. There is no hope, no happiness, no wonder, to ever return to them again.

The Boogeyman's shadow cascaded across the snowy plain, haunting families lost within the woods, huddled near a fire believing it would drive away the evil spirits. Pitch simply dwindled the fire away with a snap of his fingers and terrified the frightened mother and children. How much he adored the children's fear that would soak into him. It brought a need to him. A need for more.

Pitch sulked around an abandoned village with it's occupants obscured within their shelters. He remained hidden within his shadows awaiting for a lonely child to scurry by, so he could get a delectable meal of fear from it.

Pitch remained in his shadows, golden eyes piercing through the darkness, waiting and waiting for a child to stroll by.

_Crunch!_

Snow was crushed underneath the child's footsteps, revealing it's presence to other beings within hearing range. Pitch's eyes seemed to brighten with delight as he heard the miserable child approach closer to his reach. He straightened himself, ready to lunge for his victim. His ears strained for a better perception of the distance the child was from him. He presumed the infant was running, as he heard short gasps emit from it's throat, as if it was out of breath, but kept bolting to his or her home, as if a wild pack of dogs was hunting him, compelling him to run for the hills. In this case shadows were the 'wild dogs' hunting him, mustering for him run to his shelter for protection from the sinister wisps.  
Pitch readied himself, as the child was now only a few steps away from his obscured shadow. He awaited when finally he saw a tip of boot appear within his line of sight, and immediately plunged towards his victim. As Pitch's immoral eyes scanned the 11 years old boy before him, the boy didn't raise his arms in alarm, he didn't back away from the surprise figure charging for him, his eyes... His eyes didn't reveal an ounce of fear, towards the Nightmare King. Pitch outstretched his arms towards the boy, determined to wrap it's victim within his fear and darkness. But what surprised him was once he made contact with the boy's arm, he slipped through the feeble frame of the child. Like an eel slipping from a person's grasp; his hand slithered through the boys frame, as if he was a ghost unable to make contact with any other soul. But, what stunned him the most, was when the child walked through him, no acknowledgement that the Nightmare King stood before him. He let a shriek of despair escape him as he felt a cold, ghost feeling slither through his being, ending with leaving his insides hallow. The child ran right through him, unaware of his existence. Pitch spun around to find the boys back facing him, vanishing within the distance unaware he was in the presence of the Boogeyman. The child didn't believe. The child didn't believe in the Boogeyman.

Pitch disintegrated within in the frozen ground beneath, only to reappear beside a frost glazed window, separating him from the joyous family inside, with that boy. That boy that ran through his ghostly being.  
The home seemed to be welcoming to other visitors. All except Pitch who stood in the bitter coldness outdoors, with the biting breeze whipping along his frostbitten skin. He watched, observed the joy filled family within, opening boxes wrapped in some type of paper with wintery designs displayed across them. The exuberant boy, carelessly ripped the papery substance from around the box, reaching within taking out what seemed to be a miniature stuffed animal of a wolf. A toy. A simple trinket that brought so much happiness within the boy once again. He scurried around the floor with this stuffed wolf, making howling and grunting sounds, ones a wolf would make, as he was amazed by the small trinket he wielded in his hand.  
Pitch would have barged within the home, but there was no shadow within the room for him to transport into. The room was fire-lit, along with a pine tree that a vibrant lights twisted around it, shining the room in various jolly colours. Pitch was forced to observe this pitiful family, that were brimming with hope and wonder. It was disgusting. It hardened his black heart even more. But he couldn't do anything about it. He was unseen to this family, it was like he didn't even exist to them.

Pitch finally snapped back to reality from his sorrow-filled mind, and spun on his heel towards what he thought he would find an abandoned village. Only to be greeted with multiple children, scrambling around, all with smiles graced along their lips, and eyes filled with innocence, joy, wonder, happiness. There was no longer a trace of fear within their expressions. They weren't afraid. They weren't scared.

Pitch carelessly wandered into the center of the ring of children, only not to be recognized or see a child tremble in fear for a moment. None of the children could see him. They didn't believe in him. It was like he didn't exist to them any longer.

A gleam of gold caught Pitch's attention as he was revealed with a trail of golden sand that drifted through the air. He arose from the ground next to the peculiar substance, only to find it's source from what looked like to be a man. A chubby man, that seemed to be made out of an abundance of the golden grains of sand, hovering in the air. His arms were outstretched beside him, releasing the dream sand in multiple routes, each leading to darkened rooms that were once inhabited with ear-piercing screams now silenced due to their nightmares transforming into pleasant dreams.

Next to chubby man, was a hybrid- feathered fairy, that zipped by with mini duplicates of her, trailing behind. Her feathers that coated her body, all except her face, were shades of vibrant colours, of green, blue, purple... All combined together on her, to make an admirable fairy. Her gem purple eyes were wide with delight, as a frail smile was framed along her periwinkle pink lips. Her luminescent wings fluttered through the air, carrying her away from the village where Pitch stood.  
After the ravishing fairy took her leave, what seemed to be an over grown bunny appeared, along with a white bearded Russian, in a oversized floating sled, led by flying deer. The bulgy man wrapped within a ruby red jacket, laughed joyfully in the night sky, as he cracked his whips and the deer fleeted in the star twinkling sky, vanishing along with the man. The three of the four of them were gone, except for the abnormally overgrown rabbit. There was a leather strap wrapped around his chest, and a holder for boomerangs rested along his back. He was positioned on his back legs, sniffing the air around him, ears twitching of the multiple sounds of laughing children around him. After a few moments, the rabbit hopped from the roof, and jumped toward the ice coated ground, where a hole formed and he disappeared within. Leaving Pitch utterly lost within his thoughts, of the event that just occurred.

He glanced up towards Man in the Moon, the figure he loathed with all his being. It shone more brightly than on an usual night. And then Pitch discovered what just occurred. Manny replaced his fear with wonder and delight with those newborn spirits. He sent Pitch into an endless oblivion of solitude, to be consumed within his own fears. Manny created the Guardians of Childhood to protect children's pure, innocent souls from him. The children no longer feared but now believed. Believed in those retched Guardians.

Pitch landed back onto the crisp ground, only to be presented with children scurrying in different directions each huddling colorful wrapped presents in their arms or a basket full of painted eggs. Pitch dodged the children that threatened to pass right through him, but was to late to notice as a child barreled through him. A cutting feeling wrenched his insides, as if felt a knife was stabbing him from the inside out. This is what it felt liked to not be believed in. Being unseen to a world of children, devoured in a world of your fears for the centuries to come. Pitch was doomed to not be believed in any longer, and it was all to Man in the Moon's afflicted Guardians. The Sandman, Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny, and Santa Clause were the ones to fault for destroying his Dark age, and returning the world back to it's serene self. The Guardians had all the blame for his failure. The Guardians were the ones who cursed him into this endless age of solitude. Pitch desired for revenge against those Guardians. He wanted them to be defeated once and for all. In time to come it will be accomplished and those Guardians will be no more.

* * *

Millennium's passed, of failure, unsuccessful attempts to demolish the Guardians. His plans always ended in vain, with him retreating back within his shadows, or back to his domain with his few, surviving Nightmare stallions. Over the centuries with the war between the Guardians, he distinguished that he needed an army, an army of nightmares created from him and children. Created from children's nightmares and his black sand, Pitch sculpted a black sanded stallion, with their lustrous golden eyes saturated with children's shrill screams at night, their struggles to free themselves from their greatest fears, the haunting memories left within them of that torturous nightmare for all eternity. Their eyes held the children's misery and frightened souls, that they brought upon them. Pitch simply came to the conclusion to name these dark creatures, Nightmares. The name was self explanatory. They were created from children's nightmares, along with assistance from Pitch's black sand. But in total, the Nightmares are what they are created from and what their purpose is to bring upon children. Pitch was pleased with this creation, it certainly gained the Guardians attention, that he was growing stronger over the years. But they continued to ignore, continue with achieving children's belief towards them. They ignored Pitch, threw him aside as if he was no threat. But finally after millennium's of sulking within the shadows, he finally emerged once and for all ready to distinguish the Guardians.

His plan would been a success. His clutches of engulfing the world in fear and darkness was approaching. It would have been within his grasp soon enough, if there wasn't that white haired teenage boy that interfered with his plans. It seemed the Guardians had a trick up their sleeve along with Pitch. Pitch surprised them, by tarring them apart one by one. First the Tooth Fairy , stealing all her significant tooth containers, along with capturing her beloved helpers. Next, was Sandman. Pitch had no regret releasing that arrow sending the golden man into an endless world of nightmares. Thirdly, Bunnymund, attacking his Warren, shattering all his 'googies' (what he would call his Easter eggs), and then when Easter was destroyed, all hope would have been finally lost for them and would have gradually perished. It would have been a success if it wasn't for that ignorant Jack Frost. Pitch saw him as no threat at first, but was proven wrong when he was the one who foiled all his plans. Jack decided to join the Guardians and become one himself, Jack refused to join him in Antarctica, and it wasn't everyday Pitch requested other spirits to join him. He saw how much more power was being restricted within Jack. Jack had so much more potential, than what the Guardians were teaching him. Him and Jack could have demolished the Guardians with a flick of their wrists if they worked together. Cold and dark, would have been the perfect combination to cover the world in. Jack's bitter coldness, with Pitch's frightening nightmares, would have brought them in an endless Dark Age, where no one could defeat them. But Jack refused, it would have been so much simpler for him to join Pitch, and gain believers that way, but he joined those retched Guardians instead.  
No matter. Now a year later of sulking and creating a more improved and intricate plan, Pitch was finally certain of this strategy to final be rid of the Guardians. He was positive, this time, for sure, that his plan would end with victory for him instead of ending in vain.

His nightmares were ready and so was he.

_"They think I'm finally defeated. They think that I'm gone forever, that fear is gone along with me. They think the endless war between us is finally over.  
Oh how foolish they are.  
They should know by now that I shall never be defeated, that fear shall never be defeated. Fear is something that shall stay around for all eternity, along with me.  
Now, finally, I have created the perfect plan to rid all of them, including that mindless Jack Frost. To send them in an oblivion of darkness. They will never expect what is about to hit them, and it will be to late for them to do anything about it. They will fall into despair, they will fall in defeat within my grasp.  
The Guardians will finally be no more, within a short amount of time.  
But first is to break them. Not kill. But shatter their spirits, that they won't be able to be those Guardians of children. Their centers of wonder, hope, dreams, fun, and memories will no longer linger within them once I'm done. They will know nothing but fear. They will be begging for misery to end their miserable lives when they're in my possession, and one day when I'm finally finished with them I will grant their wish, and allow them free.  
But first, the beginning where it all starts, is to warn them I have returned once again, that I am more powerful than before. But how to warn them, by black-mailing them, frightening them at the thought they have returned.  
There is no better way, than having a messenger to send them this message. A poor soul to deliver the message to the rest of them for him. But not an innocent child, like Jamie, having a nightmare, but something a little more... interesting.  
What better way for the Guardians to be frightened of him, if he caused harm upon one of them. Made them frighten for their kind that was hurt under his hand, and fear what he could do to them.  
What, better way to begin, with one of the Guardians themselves. One he would relish, bringing burning pain to, one he knows he will have 'fun' with.  
What better way to start, with their newest member of the group. Their little child of the family, their brother, or a son figure to them. What better way to start with the Guardian of Fun. Non other than Jack Frost."_

* * *

**A/N: So this is how Kozmotis turned into Pitch Black with a few twists I added myself into it. I didn't read the actual story but got the information of wiki, so the info. I put in this might not be accurate, so I decided to add my own style of writing to it, and I like how it is.  
**** Also I decided this chapter is a mixture between my imagination, the Guardians of Childhood Books, and the movies.  
My imagination is just adding new details into it neither the book or movie had, for people who read the book (or wiki;) ) and saw the movie might see the difference within this chapter with what I added to it. And the second part of the chapter when Pitch was scaring the boy but was unseen that didn't happen in the books. It was in the movie, that scene. When Pitch was at the Tooth Palace and it went to a flashback to the Dark Ages. So that part was from the movie and I added my own part into it:) The third part was all my imagination, to get the plot rolling with the story so that was all my dirty minded imagination there;)**

**So, what I'm trying to say is, this chapter was an equal mixture between the Guardians of Childhood books, the movie, and my imagination. It all just came together and this it what I made of Pitch Black and how he became the Boogeyman, and why he hates the Guardians, and some other things that I don't to say cause it will spoil the rest of the story.**

**IMPORTANT****: As all of you have seen, I deleted the other chapters I already have posted, except for the author's note, so for the few of you who haven't read that, it will make sense what is being done if you do. Instead, of updating them, I decided just to delete the chapter, and post a new one. But I still have those chapters in my drafts if I want to look back for ideas. I just wanted to let you know now, so once you find out you won't be confused, and be asking me a million questions. I know it is confusing what I am doing but it'll be solved in a couple weeks.  
Also, I hope you see where this story is heading. I promise I will re-enter those chapters in, with the new plot of the story I have going on. For those who read my previous story you will see when I add those parts in. They might be in later chapters though, cause now you all seen, I lengthened my chapters by a lot. So I'm going to squeeze those parts in chapters, don't worry. And it will all fit together. **

**For now Review it's what keeps me writing:)  
Until next time:)**

**-Silversparkleout**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians.**

**Note: Most of this story will be in sort of Pitch's Pov. I don't like writing in first person, but it is in his point of view sort of. But throughout the story I'm going to add a few Jack and Guardians povs. Probably one in the next chapter:)  
For now, hope you enjoy:)**

* * *

A black sanded stallion reluctantly revealed it's presence to it's master as it emerged from the murky shadows. It hesitantly stuttered it's way over to where the Boogeyman was positioned beside the rusted globe. It lowered it's head seeming to lax and slouch; as if it was afraid. But of what?  
It's pupils rose to scan it's leader, finding him with an evil smirk graced along his lips, like always, as he was circling around the globe of belief, with his arms gingerly lapped behind him. Pitch's eyes bored into the flickering lights, seeming not to notice his minion appear behind him.

Recently the Nightmares were intimidated by Pitch's power, or just Pitch in general.  
Pitch seemed to regain a new type of 'gift' with his black sand, and formed a menacing beast; far more terrifying than a black sanded pony delivering frightening dreams in children's sleep.  
By the looks and what this creature could cause, the Nightmares concealed themselves within the shadows staying invisible to both the creatures and Pitch. Maybe their fear was how Pitch was gaining this strength. Maybe, the fear Pitch would soak in wasn't just from the children but from his own creations as well. A mixture between infants and Nightmares fear combined together, absorbing it's way into Pitch's heart, empowering him. That seemed to be the conclusion to how Pitch seemed to gain so much power in such a short amount of time.  
The Nightmare awaited for Pitch to recognize it's presence lingering behind him, as Pitch kept his back faced towards it. Maybe Pitch did. Maybe he's consuming the Nightmare's fear right now. The nightmares hooves were chattering against the brick ground, as it couldn't control it's legs that were trembling uncontrollably. If Pitch didn't recognize it was here yet, he certainly had to now.

Pitch swung around, an evil glare cutting into the Nightmare, as he was furious for being interrupted.  
The Nightmare backed away afraid Pitch might do of what it thought. Eliminate it. Pitch done it before, plenty of times, as a final punishment, and the Nightmare would observe the cruelty and hatred Pitch would display as his razor nails would pierce into the other Nightmare's chest. The Nightmare would always back into the shadows afraid it would be Pitch's next victim, just for pleasure and show, and couldn't envision itself having it's masters hand within it's body, with his fingers wrapping around it's heart, holding within his palm, it's life, it's soul. Pitch would be holding it's fate within his own hand. And the Nightmare knew, Pitch would show no mercy and wrench it's organ from it's body, and compress his fist around it, disintegrating both the Nightmare and organ within his hand.  
Pitch had no heart, no conscience, no feelings within his soul. The Nightmare knew that but would never admit it to any other living being. It couldn't trust anyone or anything, it might regret that trust, when it's own heart was being torn from it's chest.  
The Nightmare already had enough of having to watch, unseen within it's 'hideout' as it observed the brutally Pitch demonstrated by tarring out it's companions hearts because of a misunderstanding or a mistake. Pitch didn't tolerate such careless actions, and eliminated without a second thought so there would be one less meaningless Nightmare to care for.

The Nightmare's eyes bored into those of the Nightmare King, as he was relishing the fear emitting from the quivering horse. This Nightmare seemed to pleasure Pitch with it's presence the most. It seemed to be a frightened child before him. Eyes filled with anxiety and panic, pleads at the edge of it's throat for no harm to be brought upon it, as it would shudder from the petrified emotions trailing through it. Pitch favored this creature and allowed it by his side more than the others, that were avoiding him, which he encouraged. These nightmares were no use to him any more, they were just extra weight to be hauled around. Extra weight that was not needed. They were just for enjoyment to pass the time by. Except this one. This one seemed to have potential, to be more than the un-valuable others. This one had bravery and a mind of knowledge, to obey it's master's commands without failing him, not even once. This nightmare was perfect for this task. Pitch had use for this one in the future.

"Is the Nightling ready for me to arrive?," Pitch questioned as strolled over to the Nightmare's side. Pitch perceived the horses actions changing from it's frantic shaking to being stock still. This horse was extremely more courageous than the others. It had the endurance to approach it's most terrifying fear. Him. Pitch. Pitch's own 'child' feared him.  
Pitch had to stifle a laugh that was upon the edge of his lips. He was so amused at the moment. Jack could wait for a second as he toyed around with the Nightmare. Hopefully, Jack could hold on a bit longer. Hopefully.

He stroked the horses mane, eyes boring into those of the Nightmares, whose were purposely avoiding his gaze, seeming to have a sudden interest in the cement ground. How pathetic. Pitch felt the tension rise within the horse's nerves as he laced his fingers through it's gritty mane. It felt the horses tension rise to a danger level, as he felt the simplest amount of shivers course through its neck. Pitch's infamous sinister smirk returned back to it's owner's lips. But no matter how much Pitch desired for the moment to last, he had an 'appointment' to keep scheduled to. He untangled his finger from the horses straggly hair, and strolled to it's front, completely coating it's view from any other distractions. The horse nervously lifted it's head and whinnied, more like whimpered as now it's voice was affected from it's frightened state. It's voice was ragged, shaky, and scared. Pitch certainly felt the fear flowing through it's veins. He inhaled a deep gulp of air, as if it brought a soothing element into him. It was fear that settled him. It would absorb into him, strengthening but also easing the tension built within him. Pitch's eyes drifted open, revealed with the shuddering horse within his view.

He grew impatient, tired of waiting for it's minions reply. It was so weak, and frail. Pitch felt the horse's urge to bolt away right this second, to the other side of the world, as far as possible from him. Pitch lightly sighed, and directed, "How pathetic are you? Are you going to answer my question or not?"

The horse gathered it's courage, or just enough to reply to Pitch's snarky comment, and spoke it's reply, in a language only Pitch could comprehend.

Pitch listened, perceiving the few stutters within the horses sentences. But was able to receive most of the message, realizing it was time for him to make his entrance to Jack. He simply flicked his hand, like those of a wealthy merchant who wave their hands in disgust towards their servants to leave them to be. The Nightmare didn't hesitate to the gesture and let his master be alone racing towards the nearest shadow to escape from the eerie room. Pitch summoned a whirl a sand to twist around him also transporting him from his layer to the shadows of the lake in the outskirts of Burgess.

.

Pitch was mounted in place. It felt as if his feet were frozen to the ground, enabling him to move freely. His eyes didn't dare blink. His hands were disposed beside him. His skin even seemed to be more deathly pale than usual. His eyes seemed to be wide with pleas - no, worry.

In his sight of vision he saw the most horrific seen before him. He didn't expect it to go this far. But it was already to late. The memory was already planted within his mind for all eternity. And it was nothing compared to the upcoming events that were about to commence, that he was going to have the pride in doing with his own hand. Was it really pride he was going to feel though? Deep within conscience, something was beginning to resurface. Feelings the Boogeyman should never feel. Grief. Sorrow. Worry. And... Regret?

The Nightmare King was brought back to reality of the cruel world when he heard a piercing scream ring through his ears. His eyes clamped closed, his hands clenched into fist turning his knuckles as white as the snow surrounding him.

He dared to open his eyes only to find what he expected... Jack's arms were pinned above his head as he struggled to regain his freedom. A black sanded wolf towered above him, it's blood red eyes seeming to only be focused on Jack and Jack only. It even looked like it was about to lick it's jaws as if it were hungry for a good meal. And that platter it was expecting to be served was Jack. Or Jack's fear. Pitch couldn't apprehend if the Nightling would be willing to kill the winter spirit. It certainly appeared it'll be more than willing to do so.

Pitch heard a faint whimper emit from the frost child as he saw the Nightling's tail tighten around his wrists. Pitch could swear he already saw bloody gashes forming around Jack's wrists from irritation. Pitch had to do something. No! He should be enjoying this right now. Seeing Jack suffering was suppose to bring him joy for his act of revenge for Jack opposing against him. Joining forces with the Guardians instead of him. For nearly destroying him and sending him an endless nightmare of his own fears. It has to bring some type of happiness to see Jack so petrified. But there wasn't a sliver satisfaction within him, instead replaced by regret.

Jack ceased his struggles, as tears sprang from his eyes of feeling so utterly defeated. He was going to die. He was going to die here. He was going to die on his lake where he drowned those many years ago. The Guardians were probably praising that Jack was going to be gone from their lives forever. North would probably throw a celebratory party once they heard of the 'unfortunate' news that he was dead. They probably won't even come to take his bloody body away from this lake, and let it rest here for all of eternity.  
Tears rolled down his cheeks, not from the agonizing pain, but from being abandoned, left alone from his friends he thought he could trust with his life. The Guardians.

The wolfs nails probed further into his flesh earning another piercing yell to vibrate through the opening. Jack's body convulsed against the Nightling's hold, but only earned in the Nightling's tail constricting tighter. It felt like his wrists would break off any second, and he could already feel the sticky liquid flowing between the crevice of the Nightling's tail and his skin. The gashes forming were already beginning to bring a stinging pain to him, that seemed to numb the rest of the injuries sprawled across his frail frame.  
His hoodie had splotches of blood seeping through changing from it midnight blue colour to a velvet red. A color he hated so much right now. The only part that wasn't injured was his face. There were a few bruises dawning upon his cheeks, from being carelessly thrown into trees, but there were no cuts that brought a scorching pain to him.

The Nightling proceeded with probing it's dagger of nails further into Jack shoulder blade, realizing it was beginning to reach his bone. It bored into the eyes of the winter spirits whose were staring back to it's as it continued with it's 'fun'. It scraped it curved claw against the bone earning multiple screams to tare through the teenagers throat. A smirk graced along it's lips, revealing it razor teeth underneath similar to it's nails that seemed to have even more of an edged point. Jack only hoped the Nightling didn't have any ideas in mind to use it's teeth against him.

As seconds trickled by the Nightling continued to force multiple screeches from the boy. Jack's vision began to haze over with a blurry fog that was slowly consuming him into unconsciousness. He would gladly except to brought in a realm of slumber at the moment, only to be released from this suffering. His eyes began to droop close, to the Nightling's dislike; it raised it paw above it's head, in doing so outstretching it claws to the maximum, and was about to back hand the boy across the face if it wasn't for being paused by the Nightmare King.

Through the haze, Jack made out the black sanded wolf raising it's paw about to hit him across the face. Even though everything was a blur Jack could definitely define the nails longer than they were before; that made him shudder from the fear of how much it was going to hurt. He wasn't prepared but he braced himself for the claws that were going to dig themselves into his skin. He positioned his head away staring into the dampened forest that circled around the lake, then clamped his eyes shut transporting into a oblivion of darkness. He awaited for the burning agony to begin once again but it never came. As darkness fully consumed his mind he wasn't aware of his surroundings any longer. He let unconsciousness over take him and release him from this suffering, but it was too late for him to hear the alarmed call that transmitted from Pitch who emerged from the shadows.

.

"Enough!" Pitch ordered, as he rushed over to the center of the frozen lake. His voice sounded with as much authority as he possibly could, concealing the desperation and worry he felt. He flicked his hand, bidding the Nightling away. The wolf wrenched it's claws from Jack's shoulder, and took a few paces back, with it's head bowed, ashamed for disappointing it's master.

Pitch sped over to where the ice was now puddled over with red liquid, and Jack laid motionless. Pitch stood beside the Nightling who gazed at him with an apologetic look. Pitch avoided it's gaze and stared towards the boy that was sprawled across the ice. There were multiple blood stains imprinted into his hoodie, and some still freshly bleeding. There were various bruises forming across his face and arms, along with cuts that were beginning to scab over. Pitch's mind went into panic for a moment as he presumed he didn't see Jack's chest rising and falling. His breathe hitched in his throat, as his mind came to the assumption that Jack was dead.

He spun around to face the Nightling with a death glare, screaming on top of his lungs, "You killed him! That wasn't part of the plan! Now everyting-" Pitch couldn't finish as he was interrupted by a fit of coughing that tore through the winter child's throat. He glared back around finding Jack beginning to regain consciousness, along with his chest rising and falling indicating he was breathing. Along as he was breathing and living all will be fine, Pitch thought.

Pitch's eyes seemed to switch from complete anger to relief. Jack began to stir on the hardened ice, moaning in pain as he rested on his injured arm.  
Pitch twisted around to face the Nightling, ordering, "Gather his staff. And meet back at the throne room." The Nightling did as directed, and fled from the scene towards where Jack's staff was rested along the shore.

Pitch kept his eyes pinned on the Nightling, making sure it did as directed, then turned his attention to the awakening child as the Nightling dispersed into the shadows.  
Jack tossed and turned on the blistering cold ice, mumbling to himself, "no, don't," or other useless pleads, as nightmares reeled through his mind. What else would you expect when you were in the presence of the Boogeyman? It was always certain you be plagued with a nightmare when he was nearby.  
Pitch rolled his eyes, and advanced closer to the frightened child. As he kneeled beside Jack who was still murmuring desperate pleads, he scooped him up into his arms. What he didn't expect was for Jack to thrash in Pitch's arms the moment he made contact with him.  
Jack went into full panic mode, and began yelling and struggling in Pitch's arms.

"No! Stop it! It h-Hurts!"

Pitch strained to keep his grip on the boy as his arms flailed all over the place, almost slapping Pitch across the face if he didn't flinch away. His legs were kicking, surprisingly not striking him either. He placed the boy down onto the ice, and immediately Jack calmed down again, back to his murmuring pleads. Pitch was dumbfounded. When he made contact with Jack his nightmares would become more horrifying. It would deepen even further into Jack's fear, emerging back into his thoughts, turning his fear into something more gruesome and scarier. Pitch's presence allowed this to happen.

Pitch mused what had to be done, and within a ten second time range he went with the first idea that came to mind.  
He snapped his fingers, and tendrils of black sand scurried from the shadows within the forest, towards Jack.  
Pitch observed the sand that slithered across the ice, and took a few steps back allowing it enough room to approach the winter child.  
Once the black tendrils reached him, they constricted into hardened restraints around his wrists and ankles, tightening just for extra precautions. A small sliver of black sand then roped itself around Jack's mouth, effectively gagging him, so Pitch didn't have to listen to those irritating yells.  
As the restraints were fully constricted around Jack, Pitch began to re-approach him, prepared for what was to come. He didn't expect Jack's eye to snap open, as a muffled cry emitted from him. His crystalline blue eyes stared into those of the Boogeyman's, flooded with fear and confusion. He attempted to squirm away, but ended in vain, as he noticed the bindings wrapped around his limbs. An unheard whimper escaped from the boy, as Pitch proceeded to scoop him into his arms. Pitch drowned out the multiple pleads and whimpers, and proceeded towards the exit within the shadows.  
Jack struggled against his bindings, irritating his already raw wrists. He hated himself, for allowing Pitch to do this to him. He had to prove to Pitch he couldn't just defeat him so simply.

Pitch glared down to Jack rested in his arms, still attempting to free himself, and advised, "I wouldn't struggle against them if I were you. They'll tighten more and more until you're bone finally breaks, and then they'll still continue to tighten."

Jack ignored Pitch's piece of advise, continuing to twist his wrists, pulling against the black sand, but was punished as the black sand constricted closer together, earning a small whimper. Jack closed his eyes from the pain, and ceased his struggling finally accepting Pitch has won. He was too weak to fight, let alone defend himself. Pitch really has beaten him this time.

Pitch felt the boys tension diminish, and noticed Jack quit his struggling and laid limp in his arms, accepting Pitch had beaten him. Pitch's eyes stared at Jack, who seemed to have fallen asleep, seemed so peaceful, as his pure white hair was rested along his forehead, and his eyes weren't forcefully shut but were rested closed. His head swayed in Pitch's arms as he continued towards the shadows, pausing to check his surroundings, making sure they weren't being watched. There was an itching feeling, that every time he turned around there were a pair of eyes boring into his back. He simply took it that he was hallucinating and proceeded towards the shadows that were becoming more visibly clear by the second.  
Pitch continued to observe Jack, noticing how scared he was. He seemed to transform into the child he truly was. Pitch now only saw a frightened child rested within his arms, quivering from fear. As he was bringing him to an endless realm of nightmares.  
Pitch continued to look towards Jack and halted to stop, earning Jack to snap open his eyes to glare at Pitch. Through the hatred and envy Jack displayed, Pitch saw the petrified and scared child within Jack, who was terrified no one was going to save him and was trapped with this monster.

Jack continued to stare at Pitch silently pleading for him to let him go, and for a second he thought he saw sliver of regret and worry within Pitch, but didn't last long as the menacing look returned back to him.  
Pitch's mind was erased from all the worry and regret for what he had done to Jack, and tore his gaze away from the child, proceeding towards the shadows.

As Pitch was mere inches away, Jack began to struggle and squirm within Pitch's hold, terrified to be transported to Pitch's lair where no one would hear his screams. Pitch ignored Jack's whimpers and kept a firm hold on him, then stepped into the darkness, transporting the two back into his lair, where his Nightling waited, for Pitch and the winter child, to arrive so they could begin their fun.

.

From a distance, the black sanded horse stood, surveying the whole scene. It remained hidden, for it's sake, held it's breathe whenever Pitch looked it's way, but stayed spotted in place, daring not to make a single sound. It watched the unfortunate boy, get kidnapped, forced to fall into unconscious to escape the agonizing pain, only to be reawaken being carried away by the Nightmare King. It felt pity towards the boy, but wouldn't ever disobey it's master trust towards it. It would always be indebted to Pitch and work for him until it's dieing breathe, no matter how much it loathed to do so. It felt trapped, in a cage of barriers, unable to free itself from the bars, forever forced to serve it's allegiance to Pitch. It wished it could help the boy but in it's mind Pitch was instructing it to stay out of sight, and not betray him in any way.

But what surprised the Nightmare, was Pitch. It eyes widened with shock, refusing to believe what it saw. There was something, something, within Pitch arising, that Jack was causing to re-enter back within him. The Nightmare swore it could see something else within Pitch's eyes, other than hatred, revenge, or pure evil. It's nerves jumped in excitement as it's veins were flooded with joy and hope once again. For so long, it dwelled in a world filled with fear, and obedience. But now, it saw something within Pitch it hasn't seen in a long time. Whenever Jack whimpered from fear, or cringed in pain, it could see worry and concern flash through Pitch's being. It saw a glint of care course through Pitch as he watched the suffering child. It wasn't any child, when Pitch would look so distressed for it's well being. Something was different with Jack. There was something with Jack, that was causing Pitch to change. The nightmare recalled this memory as a sign of hope. Jack sparked something within Pitch, that never been lit before. Jack was changing him. Slowly but gradually Pitch won't be the heartless being any longer. Along with a little guidance Jack could re-surface something buried deep within Pitch. Something that's been confined for a long, Long time.

As the lake was now isolated, and freezing, the Nightmare stepped out into the light, not frightened of it any longer. It stood in place, not trembling with fear, or bent down with shame. It was positioned with it's sun golden eyes shimmering with happiness and hope. Little did it notice, the tip of it's grained tail, having a splotch of gold emerging onto it. It was expanding, slowly, but the Nightmare took no heed towards it, unaware of the trouble a little golden splotch could cause.  
It dashed across the frozen lake, hooves clambering against the frozen water, then lifted off the ground, pacing through the midnight sky, with the Moon shining brightly. It raced towards it's destination in mind. It sped through the night sky, gaining distance further away from Pitch's lair, heading somewhere other than the Boogeyman's dwelling, finally feeling free from it's confinement and betraying his master, in hope of changing him for the better.

* * *

**A/N: Well, this chapter isn't one of my best, but now I have the plot unraveling:) Also sorry, for the late update, I've started High school, and it's been taking up most of my time:p But I'm enjoying it a lot more than middle school:) Except for the loads of h.w:P Anyway, probably now on, I'll be updating on weekends. So you all now, it will be least likely you'll see an update from me on weekdays. **

**Also, I'm already planning a sequel for this story:D And I think it will be pretty cool and you wouldn't expect what's going to happen;) I'm excited to get to work on it, I just have a rough draft, but I have to finish this story first, which I'm not one fourth through yet.  
Also, I'm planning other stories also:) Yeah that's right:) Just for all of you I already have rough drafts planned for the sequel of this and two other stories:) I'll probably be updating my first story in a month or so, but I'll make a description and post it on one of my author's notes, so you could see if your interested, and I'll also put the title too, so you know:)**

**Finally, of any of you have read the Phenomal book, Divergent:) I made a fan made trailer of it, and it would mean a lot if you could check it out. It's "Divergent Trailer" by me, Marlyoreo:) Please watch:)**

**So that's it for now:) Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I'll try my best to update:) But REVIEW, it really does encourage me to update quicker:)**

**-Silversparkleout**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians:p Now on with the story...**

* * *

-North

Santoff Clausenn, or better known as the North Pole, was crowded with yeti's and elves, whom both were shoving through the work shop completing their projects. Santoff Clausenn was the most hectic it has been in years. Multiple colors of shredded wrapping paper and cut ribbons littered the floors.  
Throughout the workshop, there wasn't an inch of the wooden floor revealed, as it was hidden beneath the Christmas themed paper.  
Meanwhile, yeti's were scrambling about, over the disregarded wrappings, all pushing past one another either with completed presents, or toys that still needed painting or weren't functioning properly due to the elves.

Below, near the yeti's feet, elves were rushing about doing the same job as the yeti's. Except, they were bringing toys to the wrong area and some of them that were raveled in wrapping paper, ribbons, or sprinkled with glitter were being directed by others to the infirmary. The elves weren't masters at these type of tasks; no matter how simple the chore was for them they would always somehow make a mess of something. Even if it was fetching a cup of eggnog for a yeti. But the elves were doing better than the previous years, as their were less visits to the infirmary this year.

Some times the yeti's wondered if those elves had a brain under the abnormally large sized hat of theirs, or if it was completely desolated within that head.  
It was a question that would never be answered.

In the toy making section of the work shop, yeti's were working diligently, concentrating on the details of the toys. Their eyes were blood shot, and were drooping closed as they were resisting the urge to fall into a much needed slumber. There were several emptied cups carelessly positioned on their working station, as they were once filled with coffee. The yeti's instructed elves to make them coffee and to add extra sugar to keep them awake enough to keep on working.  
It was only a month until Christmas approached and they were extremely behind schedule. They couldn't have anymore interferences or interruptions, or it might actually cost them Christmas this year.

Shockingly, this time it wasn't the elves fault that they were so backed up on the number toys. The elves were well- behaved this year, and it would have been a commendable year if it wasn't for a certain white haired teenage boy.  
All the yeti's, even Phil, were upset at Jack for what he has done. They all were determined to give him the 'cold shoulder', and ignore him when he returned. If he ever did return.

Meanwhile, in the south wing of Santoff Clausenn, there wasn't a single yeti or elf that roamed through the twisted hallways. This wing consisted of guest rooms, that were all identical to each other. All except one.

In one of the rooms, the door was creaked open, resembling there was an occupant within this room.

Inside, North was positioned in the guest room, that had a thin layer of frost on the walls, and a layer of snow blanketed across the floor and furniture. The thin layer of snow began to transform into liquid soaking the fur sheets, forming puddles along the wooden floor, and droplets slithering down the Christmas designed walls.

North was deep in thought, as his eyes weren't filled with joy, but sadness and regret.

'This was all their fault. No. It was his fault. He was the one who should take all the blame for driving Jack away.'

North strolled over to the bed and plumped down on it causing a few flurries of snowflakes to flutter in the air, then finally land with the rest on the puddled floor.  
North sighed to himself, as he recalled the good, but mostly bad memories he had with Jack.

'It was all his fault Jack was gone. Jack would never forgive them.'

Jack was known for being the mischievous teenager that would spread trouble wherever he went. But now North knew Jack was a pure, innocent child (even though he was 300 years old he was still a child by heart) that would spread fun wherever he would go.

And now he finally realized it. When it was far to late.  
Jack was still a child. Jack was part of their family. Jack a like a son to North.  
And look what he did to his family member.  
He hurt Jack.  
North remembered seeing the shock and hurt resurface within Jack. He remembered the fear in his eyes. Not fear of them. But fear of leaving him. Abandoning him. Fear of being alone again. Fear of his family rejecting him.  
Even though he didn't show it; one insult, one hit, would shatter Jack. The mischievous boy, with a smirk always plastered across his face, was a cover up. A way to hide his pain from others. Not physical pain. But emotional, mental pain. After 300 years of being rejected, being alone; it eaten away at Jack. He would never show his pain to others, not after 300 years when he had to deal with his problems all by himself. Jack was damaged from being alone for three centuries. He wasn't telling the whole truth to them. He was keeping secrets from them. He wasn't telling them his pain, he didn't want them to help him. Jack didn't trust them.

_Bang!_

A yeti came barging through the door catching North off guard. It babbled on about something that North could only understand.

Paul finished instructing North and left the room, heading back to the workshop to complete painting all the robots.

North slowly made his way to the door also. As he was a couple steps away from exiting, he felt some urge telling him not to leave. It felt like it was wrong to leave this room just yet.

When North was standing in the doorway, he glanced back greeted with a deserted room that brought a bitter-cold breeze into the hallway. North hoped he would find Jack in the room with a smirk on his face, with his crystal blue eyes filled with joy, hope, and most of all trust, staring into North's. Sadly, that wasn't the outcome, no matter how much North wished it was.

Hope was dwindling within North that Jack would return. It's been a week. Every day that passed, hope decreased of the winter spirit returning back home. Now that it was obvious Jack wasn't going to return, North and the others had to find him. They had to find him, apologize to him, and gain his forgiveness and trust. It was time to bring Jack back home, to the North Pole, where he belonged with his family.

_Crash!_

'Oh perfect.'

North raced down the hall determined to clean up the mess, and gather with the others and find their missing family member.

Even though they would have their disagreements and get into arguments, families would always forgive each other. When Jack joined, they weren't just the Guardians of Childhood who would protect children and keep them believing. They were the Guardians of Childhood, and a family together. Jack was the one who started the connection with them. He was the one who made them experience the joy, hope, and innocence within children. Jack was the one who made them experience what it was like to have fun once again. He was the one who started the friendship with all of them.

Now, ever since Jack left, they were growing apart from one another. They never seen or spoke to each other in a week. Jack was the source of their friendship, and now that he was gone they all were separating from one another.

That couldn't happen. They were slipping away from each other, unable to grab ahold of the invisible thread connecting their friendship.

They had to find Jack. They needed their family to be reunited once again. They need Jack back again. They needed to return things back to the way they were. Where they would be having fun all day and night.

As North entered the workshop where there was a gigantic crowd of yeti's and elves racing in all different directions. He made his way over to the broken machine determined to fix more than the machine but his friendship also. He was determined to reunite his family. He was determined to bring Jack home.

* * *

- Next Day- Bunnymund

Eggs were scrambling through Bunny's warren. Some were hopping into the different coloured rivers, some were twisting down vines, some were getting splatter painted (one of Bunnies new ideas), and some were in the sunlight melting their way out of their ice cubes.

Bunny created this area ever since Jack joined them. It was the brightest area in the Warren so it made it the perfect area for the remaining egglets to thaw out of their personal freezers. Each day passed, and there seemed to be an improvement to the ice decreasing from around the eggs.

Many of Bunny's eggs were now destroyed. Gone. They were still laid in the Warren; all shattered with puddles of water surrounding them. Bunny never had a chance for the past week to clean up the shattered mess. He was to busy regaining the numbers of his eggs back to normal before Easter approached. He ignored the shattered mess for now, and made a mental note in his mind to get to work on that later.

Yet a week later, the broken shells were still sprawled around the grassy ground; not a single one touched.

Bunny hopped through a tunnel making his way over towards his melting area, checking up on how his surviving egglets were doing. He had nothing else to do at the moment. It was the first moment, he got time to himself in a week, and yet he kept himself going. He kept himself busy, to get his mind off of what he did to Jack. After last week he never seen or heard from Jack. Jack never came by the Warren. But why would he? Jack was never going to visit Bunny again, not after what he said to him. Bunny regretted every single thing he said and done to Jack, but he never had the chance to meet with Tooth, Sandy, or North to see if they've seen Jack. He was busy himself recovering from his mess. He didn't know why Jack would do this. But there had to be a good reason why he did. Now that Bunny thought of it, Jack would never do this on purpose to them. He wouldn't betray them like this. Yet, a week later, Bunny realized that he never heard Jack's side of the story. He never gave Jack a chance to speak before he blamed everything on him. Bunny blamed himself. It was all his fault Jack was gone, and their family was separated. Bunny was like a brother to Jack. Constantly getting in fights with one another but soon forgetting about it and moving on. Jack was part of his family. Jack was a child. And he hurt a child.

Before Bunny could go over to the part where the eggs were thawing out, different colored lights delicately cascaded throughout the sky and disappeared in the distance as they moved on past. Bunny knew they were the Northern Lights and it was North warning them something was wrong. He didn't waste a moment in opening up one of his holes and racing down his tunnel towards the North Pole. Bunny knew something was extremely wrong for North to call them together when Christmas was only a month away for him. But little did he know Jack was in trouble and Pitch was the one responsible for it.

* * *

-Pitch

Pitch circled around his orb, with his hands folded behind him. His face was full of pleasure, as a smirk formed along his lips. His soul was brimming with relief, freedom, satisfaction, and power. It's been so long ever since he's felt this strengthened. Throughout his immortal life, all he felt was weak and vulnerable. He felt like a coward. A coward for hiding in the shadows all this time. But no longer will he hide within his shadows, he is finally beginning to get noticed for what he truly is. The Nightmare King. The Boogeyman. The one who everyone shall fear.

Black fog clouded the orb, ending the scene of North sending the Northern Lights to the other Guardians. The worry and fear North was presenting was priceless. The way his hands were trembling. The way beads of sweat dripped down his face. The way his hope-filled eyes were now clouded with worry and fear. He was scared. Not for himself. But for his fellow Guardians.

Sadly, the moment was short lived as the fog clumped together within the glass sphere ending the scene within. In a short amount of time the Guardians would be at the North Pole. All together at one place. Pitch certainly knew how to gather them together when he wanted to. His plan was proceeding perfectly.

As the amusing show ended for Pitch he faced away from the orb welcomed with his abandoned lair. No Nightmares or Nightlings. It was deathly silent in here. And it irritated Pitch to no end. He need to figure something to amuse himself with before he had to head over to the North Pole in a few hours. All his Nightmares were out spreading fear to children's dreams. As for his Nightlings... Pitch was unsure what they were up to. He'll find out later. They knew they couldn't cause much trouble now, they had to stay invisible, unnoticed from the Guardians.

Pitch stood there in silence for a couple of moments, until an idea popped in his mind of how to keep himself 'amused.'

He disintegrated into one of his shadows, then reappeared in a dingy cell. There was barely any light within this confinement, as the only source of light was the single torch rested along the wall. Pitch felt small drip of sweat begin to form along his forehead, as the cell seemed to arise in temperature. He swiped the back of his hand along his forehead, wiping away the pool of sweat beginning to form there. He couldn't even picture himself surviving in this room for even a few hours. He couldn't even come to assumption of how his prisoner was surviving this heat for days!

Pitch eyes skimmed along the brick floor, searching for his treasured prize. He was anxious to begin his fun. His eyes squinted even more, as it looked like they were almost shut, as he tried seeing through the dim light for his prisoner.

His golden pupils landed on the frail frame sprawled along the floor in the darkest corner of the chamber. A small muffled shriek escaped the boy as he to noticed the presence of his tormentor.  
Pitch's smirk grew even wider as his eyes filled with delight. He grabbed ahold of the torch, and crept towards his captive. As there was less distance parted between them, the flames from the torch radiated enough light, for him to make out his captive huddled in the corner.

His hands were firmly bound behind him, with a chain connected to the wall, preventing him much movement. His feet were also bound together forcing him to lay in an uncomfortable position. As he got a better view of the boy, he noticed his face wasn't it's usual deathly pale tone but was flushed, as sweat beaded down his forehead, and his hoodie was sticking to his body. Ignoring his multiple injuries, the boy was in a far too heated room for him to survive in much longer. And no matter how much Pitch loathed this figure struggling to hold onto his grasp of life beneath him, he couldn't allow him to die just yet.

Pitch ignored the whimpers emitting from the boy as he approached him, with torch in hand. He kneeled down to his level, noticing the hair plastered to the boys forehead. He also registered how deeply he was breathing, through his nose, as the heat was to much for him to control now. But Pitch ignored the boys discomfort, for the moment, and glaring into the fear-filled eyes staring back into his cruel golden ones. He saw the boys eyes move to the torch he held next to him, and he felt the fear increase even more. The boy was afraid of fire. He was still of afraid of him, but he was more scared of the fire that Pitch wielded in his hand at the moment.

Pitch teased the frightened child by leaning the flame inches away from the boys face. He heard a muffled shriek escape him, as he struggled away, forcing himself further into the stone wall. Pitch continued to hold the flame up to him, causing more sweat to pour down his captives face. He held it there for a couple more minutes, until he decided he done enough. He pulled the flame lit torch away and carelessly threw it to the moistened ground behind him. It's light dwindled even less, when it made contact with the small puddle, darkening the room even more.

Pitch then snapped him fingers, releasing the chains from the wall, allowing the boy more space to squirm around.

The only response was a questioning look glaring at him.

"What? I can't let you stay in here any longer. You might as well die right now, if I did."

Pitch scuffled closer to the boy, causing him to struggle away from him, as he reached his hands towards him. The boy squirmed even more, as Pitch made contact with his overly heated skin. Pitch didn't react or make any comment to how simmering the skin was but he certainly felt it.

Pitch saw the fear within the dull blue eyes, and instead this time, he didn't feel pride course through his body. He felt regret, remorse, guilt.

The bitter emotions bubbling through his being were swiped away by an invisible force, and Pitch continued to scoop the winter spirit into his arms.

Once he finally got his arms wrapped around the immortal boy, he hoisted him off the ground earning another muffled yell. Not a muffled shriek of fear, but a muffled scream of pain. A scream of pain from such a simple movement. Regret returned to Pitch's being as he stared to the immortal teenage boy he held in his arms. The white haired immortals eyes were clamped shut from the amount of agony as groans of pain escaped between his lips. Pitch tore away his gaze from the miserable child and proceeded his way out the room and down the twisted hallways.

Minutes passed as Pitch continued to his destination with a broken Jack within his hold. For once he wasn't tormenting Jack. Not physically or mentally. He felt like he shouldn't cause anymore pain upon the boy. He couldn't imagine how much all the injuries were burning him right now.  
Pitch felt something sticky soak in his robe and moisten on his skin. He glanced down to the frail boy and noticed all his injuries having blood spill from them. The tares in the blue hoodie had blood trailing out and staining Pitch's robe. Pitch looked in disgust toward the blood. There was so much of it. He felt something rise within him, telling him to help the boy he held. But it was gone in a flash as his uncaring self returned.

He saw the door in the distance, at the end of the hall, and forced himself to walk faster towards it. Jack groaned in Pitch's grasp, but Pitch didn't care. He didn't care about the boy. But there was something buried deep within him telling him he did.

Pitch bashed the door open revealing another empty chamber, that was identical to the other. Except for the temperature. It was much cooler than the other.

Pitch felt a shiver run down his spine, and definitely knew this room fitted Jack's needs to survive for now. He slowly proceeded his way into the room, and glanced down to the child, finding the boy relax within his grasp, a little. Jack was still fearful of Pitch and stayed tense, but Pitch felt a small fraction of tension leave Jack as the fridged air surrounded them.

Instead of carelessly tossing the boy on the brick hard ground, Pitch decided to place him down. As he released the boy and he was sprawled on the bitter stone cold floor, Pitch saw Jack struggle against his bonds, as they becoming even more increasingly uncomfortable for him.

"You should be thankful," he paused to proceed as it seemed like he had a challenge to continue. Jack confusingly stared up at him at the sudden pause, and would have retorted something if he didn't have the gag wrapped around his mouth. The evil smirk returned back to Pitch as he continued, " You probably deserve to stay in that heated room. And I should have left you there to die," Pitch kneeled down and cupped hands around Jack's chin forcing him to look at him, "But I'll be considerate this time. Either way, we have a meeting with your precious Guardians in couple hours."

Jack wrenched away from Pitch's hold and stared into his eyes, terrified if it's true with what he just said.  
The Guardians couldn't see him like the this.

Pitch positioned himself back to his feet, saying, "Well, I'll leave you to wallow in your miseries. Unless you would rather have me put you into a pleasurable nightmare again," he suggested as he glared down at the frightened child.

Jack instantly, struggled away from Pitch, horrified he would force him into once of those terrifying nightmares. Jack remembered every single one clear as day light. And how much he wish he didn't. He wished he could forget those horrific nightmares he was forced into.

Pitch saw Jack staring at the distance, ignoring him, and kicked him in the stomach, regaining the spirits attention.

"Mmph!," Jack cried through his gag. He glanced back up to Pitch, with tears forming at the bottoms of his lids. Instead of finding the un-hearted being above him, he saw Pitch's eyes glaring down at him... with shock? Pitch's eyes were widened gazing down at him, not with his usually poisonous golden orbs, but with ones that seemed like they had care within them. Worry. The type of eyes that belonged to a father distressed about his child. He was utterly confused right now. Pitch was dragged away from his shocked state of mind and returned back to it's remorseful self once again.

_ Why was this happening to him? _He wondered.

Pitch didn't say a word. He made his exit from the room, head held down to his chest. He didn't dare look back to Jack, as he felt Jack's gaze boring into his back. He felt... guilty. Why? He had to fix this somehow.

Pitch exited the room, without a single pause or glance back. He slammed the door shut behind him leaving Jack bound as darkness completely swallowed him up. Pitch maneuvered down the halls and finally passed by one of his Nightlings.

He popped back from his state of mind, instructing, "You," the Nightling turned, listening to it's masters command, "Go the room at the end of the hall and prepare the captive for our trip to the Pole. He needs looser bindings an-"

Did he just say that? Did he just say something that would bring Jack comfort? Why would he want Jack to be comfortable in his presence?

Pitch paused blankly staring at the nightling. The nightling gave a grunt bringing Pitch back to his orders. But he simply finished, "That is all. Get it done," and then raced away, dashing down the hall out of the nightling's sight.

.

Pitch bursted into his office, clutching his head in frustration. He sped over to his desk and clamped his hands against the edge of it. He was breathing heavily, as if he just ran a marathon, and enclosed his hands so hard he felt like he'll break off a wooden piece of the table.

As anger grew within himself he released his grip, and instead yelled in frustration throwing his arms across the work table, sweeping all the papers and books onto the floor. Pens ricocheted against the brick ground but settled as glass objects shattered into a million pieces as they made contact.

Pitch collapsed onto his knees, and broke down then and there. Tears of frustration and sadness streamed down his cheeks, as his hands grasped onto his head. He grunted, unable to control his emotions.

_Why?_

Is all he could wonder.

Why was he feeling this way? Ever since he gotten ahold of Jack? There seemed to be this difference within him. All he could wonder now was why and how. How could he stop this feeling?

Pitch's fingers laced down his robe as he began to recover from his mental breakdown. It didn't help at all when he came across a wet liquid that stuck to his robe. He parted his fingers and rose them to his face.  
A crimson red coated the tips and soaked beneath his nails. Trails of the rose-red liquid trailed down his fingers and settled in his palm, pooling together from the other paths settling there.

It was blood. It was Jack's blood!

Over the past week Pitch saw enough of Jack's blood from what he inflicted upon him, but he never touched it, or felt it.

He gazed at it for seconds. For minutes. He couldn't seem to tare his gaze away onto anything else.

He saw the blood seep down his fingers, from an injury, he caused upon a boy. Jack.

.

Pitch snapped out of his daze from what felt like an hours passing. Thoughts been jumbling through his mind, each relating back to Jack.

Pitch wiped his hand against a dry part of robe, and then headed towards his cabinet that held freshly cleaned and non-bloodied attirments. He felt sick wearing this one.

Pitch glanced up at the clock as he reached to get a clothing garment. It was 7 o'clock! It was almost time. He had to head to the North Pole soon and proceed with his plan. Nothing was going to stop him from diminishing the Guardians from this world and replacing it with fear.

Pitch began to re-changed his raven black gown, as he prepared to visit the North Pole where the Guardians awaited both him and their precious young Jack.

* * *

**A/N: Hello to all:) I decided I'm going to begin my other story tomorrow so I updated this one tonight:) Anyway, nothing much to say since it's 2:30 at night *yawn*... So I shall go to sleep now. But hoped you enjoyed the chapter:) Pitch is starting to get those peculiar feelings;) And he doesn't know why;) But you do cause I gave you a sneak peek in Chapt. 1:) **

**For now, hope you enjoyed. Next chapt. up next weekend.**

**Don't forget to REVIEW:) They really make me happy, and encourage me to write:)**

**-Silversparkleout**


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